“Let the knowledge that the engagement is at an end come from you; it will be better so.”
Jack went to the bureau and sank into a chair.
Yes, if the blow must be dealt it better be by his hands, as tenderly as possible.
He sat for some moments with his head in his hands, as utterly oblivious of the presence of the others as if they were absent.
Before him rose the lovely face with its trustful eyes; in his ears rang the musical voice which he should never hear again.
What should he write? Why should he write?
Stephen stole behind him.
“You will be careful to conceal the truth, my dear Jack,” he murmured.
Jack started, and turned upon him with a look that caused Stephen to shrink back behind the table.
“For what am I giving up what is most precious in life?” he said hoarsely.